


'til it glows like a ruby

by mdizzee



Category: The Wilds (TV 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, First Kiss, High School AU, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Recreational Drug Use, References to Drugs, Sexual Tension, Sort Of, Underage Drinking, fatin is the best I'm obsessed, i love them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28628076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mdizzee/pseuds/mdizzee
Summary: ‘Surely Fatin will come find us, right?’ Shelby speaks evenly, trying to disguise her irritation. Toni has no such qualms.‘Nah, no way. She’ll be too busy with her tongue down someone’s throat by now. Fuck, which means…’The words feel almost too sour to say.‘We’re stuck here for the evening,’ Shelby finishes for her. ‘Together.’
Relationships: Shelby Goodkind/Toni Shalifoe
Comments: 15
Kudos: 193





	'til it glows like a ruby

**Author's Note:**

> dis a cliche self-indulgent fit if I ever saw one. I love them & I wanted to see them in a dumb situation that's not life threatening for once. High school au of course. Also I call it a zoot cos I'm British 🙇♀️🤪

Fatin’s parties are not ones to miss. Toni isn’t sure if it’s the rich dad who pays for a table stacked out with free drink or Fatin’s impeccable hosting skills that transform the ground floor into a strobing, thrumming, mess of shadowy corners, but Fatin’s parties are infamously good. This particular Friday is no exception; it’s barely 9pm and already the floors are tacky with spilt beer, the back garden barely visible through the haze of smoke clouding the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Toni’s just arrived, pleasantly tipsy from the pregame with her basketball team, and she’s barely had time to shrug off her jacket (because the humid body heat in the room is already almost unbearable) when she’s ambushed by Fatin, who totters over in impossibly high heels and pulls her into a tight hug.

‘Hi,’ Toni grins, returning the hug. Fatin has a pink hip flask that reads ‘#WhiteGirlWasted’ tucked into her bra.

‘Toni! Thank God you’re here,’ Fatin says, words thick and slurred. ‘We need more beer!’

Toni eyes the dining table, which is buckling under the weight of bottles of vodka, tequila, wine, everything.

‘Yeah, yeah. There’s all of that,’ Fatin wraps her arms around Toni’s neck and raises an eyebrow at her conspiratorially. ‘But I need the football and track teams to get just a little more krunk and those boys are much, _much_ too limp for the hard stuff.’

It’s true enough. They watch as Andrew from the football team tries to choke down a shot, spraying it all over a girl from Toni’s Biology class - Rachel. She scowls at him and as he rushes to the fridge for a coke chaser, she grabs the phone he’s left on the kitchen counter and dunks it in the jungle juice keg.

‘See?’ Fatin whispers, loudly. ‘Theft and property damage happens when they’re not on the Bud Light’

‘Are you asking me to do this ‘cos I’m gay? Am I just the muscle to you?’ Toni laughs. (Rachel stalks away, leaving the drenched phone in a puddle on the counter.)

Fatin’s eyes widen, faux-offended.

‘Yes! And also you’re the first person I’ve talked to since I realised like two minutes ago that we need more beer. So, can you get them? Please?’ Fatin bats her eyelashes at her. ‘They’re just in the basement. And there are loads so, like, get someone to help you.’

‘Why can’t _you_ help me?’

‘Ew, I’m the host! And I have to keep Leah and her boy toy from boning in my little brother’s bed, so…’ Fatin’s eyes narrow as she looks over the crowd. ‘How about…’

Toni turns to follow Fatin’s gaze and she rolls her eyes when she sees Shelby Goodkind, surrounded by her little clique, decked out in her off-duty-pretty-girl-Christian finery.

‘Fatin-’ She starts. Toni is not petty, she just likes to minimize her time spent with that girl. It’s nothing personal, it’s just that- actually, it is personal. Shelby’s car is an SUV, her father is close with the governor, and her views are notoriously conservative. Toni is broke, gay, and technically homeless. So fuck that girl. Need she say more? 

‘Wait, why’d you even invite h-’ She’s talking to thin air because Fatin has already sped away from her and her heart sinks as Fatin drags Shelby away from her friends and starts wrangling her towards Toni.

She looks around desperately for Dot, but a quick scan of the dark corners reveals Dot at the far end of the room, sharing a cigarette with that boy she’s been circling for months. They’re sharing a windowsill, intimately close, deep in some conversation. Good for her; Dot deserves it after all the shit she’s been through this year. But Toni also doesn’t think she deserves the special hell that’s barreling towards her in the form of a blasted Fatin with an earnestly smiling Shelby in tow.

‘You two. Drink crates. In the basement.’ Someone’s turned the music up and Fatin’s shouting at them. Toni can’t even protest before Fatin brightly shouts ‘Thanks’ and flits away into the crowd, leaving her and Shelby standing together awkwardly.

‘Hi, there’ Shelby says in that heavy Southern accent that makes Toni want to smash something. She has ‘JESUS FIRST’ written on her nails, a letter on each, and the idea of Shelby specifically asking her nail artist to paint that on top of the French manicure makes Toni’s skin crawl. She doesn’t answer, just turns and starts stalking through the house towards the basement door, pointedly not checking whether Shelby is following her or not. Maybe she is petty, actually. Whatever.

The basement door is heavy, and Shelby wedges a stray shoe under it to prop it open as she moves through it, fumbling in the dark for the light switch. She’s taking irritatingly long to find it, even in the illumination provided by the wide-open door, and Toni, without thinking, leans past her and presses the lightswitch for her. They blink in the light and Toni realises with a start how close she is to Shelby, just on the edge of invading her space. They lock eyes and Shelby’s mouth is slightly parted and Toni’s surprised when she doesn’t back away from her; she stays still for a second too long to be natural before she breaks eye contact and starts slowly descending the steep stairs. Toni brushes it off; she doesn’t care to dwell on why this idiot might be looking at her so curiously. She checks the shoe is still firmly wedged under the door, and follows her down into the basement.

Fatin’s basement is criminally decadent, cosy and warm under dim incandescent lights; it’s Toni’s understanding that her parents let her have free reign over it under the guise of making it her cello practise space, but said cello is currently stuffed carelessly in the corner next to a piano with crumpled clothes - Fatin’s reject outfits - thrown over it. The rest of the room is lined with bookshelves, the space filled with low sofas, shag rugs, plush cushions, and an ornate free-standing mirror leant against a soundproofed wall. There’s a kiss pressed onto the mirror in red lipstick, and a short note written in Fatin’s loopy script (‘You look good- now go get some!!’) across the upper corner. There’s also a huge smart TV on the far wall, between a set of impressively technical-looking speakers. Toni reminds herself to learn how to money launder or something.

A tense silence forms between them as Toni starts pulling cases of beer out from under Fatin’s tactically placed tapestry. Neither of them makes the effort to speak and Toni scowls as she passes a crate to Shelby, who keeps her face tactfully neutral.

‘That’s weird. There’s only two.’

‘Isn’t this more than enough?’ Shelby says. She’s wrinkling her nose, annoyingly confused.

Toni gives her a look.

‘The fuck?’

‘I…’ Shelby looks like she might hold her tongue, but she straightens up and meets Toni’s glare with a terse smile of her own. ‘I don’t know how much is enough. I don’t drink much, do I?’  
Toni stands up with a crate; she resists the urge to shove Shelby with her shoulder as she brushes past her.

‘I don’t know about you, but _I_ can’t fuel a party just off the blood of Christ.’

Ouch. It’s not her best Christian-themed jibe but it seems to work well enough, judging by the flash of hurt that passes over Shelby’s face. They start climbing the stairs in uncomfortable silence, and Toni’s heart sinks through the soles of her sneakers as she reaches the landing; the basement door has closed on them.

She turns and unceremoniously dumps her case onto Shelby, whose smile is starting to look strained. Trying the doorknob - and Toni _really_ rattles the damn thing - shows that the door has locked from the outside. Just her fucking luck. God, she really must have royally pissed off some ancient deity to get karma as bad as this.

She hears a sigh behind her and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as she remembers who she’s locked in the basement with and she pounds on the door with her fists, increasingly frantic. However, the universe hates her or something and the door, like the rest of Fatin’s basement, is soundproofed and does its job well, muffling the blows into almost nothing. Toni hears something that sounds suspiciously like a ‘Teehee!’ and footsteps scuttling away on the other side of the door; she curses under her breath. She’s going to find who’s done this and kill them. Stone cold.

‘Toni! What is going on?’ Shelby says, exasperated, peering around the two crates she’s holding.

‘Door’s locked.’ Toni grimaces as she says it. Fuck her life.

‘What?’ Shelby says, with just a hint of incredulous panic in her voice. ‘Let me try; here, take these-’

‘Why would it be different if you tried it?’ Toni says, bluntly. God, she needs to get out of here. 

Shelby glowers at her, shifting the crates in her grip. Part of Toni wants to leave her carrying the uncomfortably heavy crates just for the petty satisfaction of seeing her wilt under the weight, but she thinks she’d get chewed out by Fatin if Shelby dropped them; she gives the door one last kick and begrudgingly takes back her crate.

‘Ok, then. Why don’t you call someone? Is your friend here? What’s her name,’ Shelby asks, backing down the stairs. ‘Marla?’

‘It’s Martha,’ Toni replies tersely ‘And I left my phone in my jacket pocket.’

Shelby exhales at that, running a hand through her hair. Welcome to the club; Toni’s just as annoyed at herself.

‘Where’s your phone, then?’

‘It literally just died when we were upstairs.’ Shelby says, and shows her phone to Toni like she has to prove it.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. They stare at each other, scarcely able to believe their bad luck.

‘Surely Fatin will come find us, right?’ Shelby speaks evenly, trying to disguise her irritation. Toni has no such qualms.

‘Nah, no way. She’ll be too busy with her tongue down someone’s throat by now. Fuck, which means…’

The words feel almost too sour to say.

‘We’re stuck here for the evening,’ Shelby finishes for her. ‘Together.’

There's a pause as the reality of their situation dawns on them. Toni’s skin prickles at the idea of being in such proximity to Shelby for such an extended amount of time.

‘Ok, I guess we’ll just,’ Shelby says with a forced smile. ‘Make the most of it, then?’

Toni clenches her jaw and sets down the stupid beer crate.

‘Let’s just turn on the TV.’ Shelby continues. She doesn’t need to add the ‘ _so we don’t need to speak to each other_ ’; Toni understands her perfectly.

Toni nods, and as Shelby sits down on the couch, she starts rummaging around some drawers, looking for the remote control she knows Fatin stashes away. The friction between them is tangible; they’re each pretending the other doesn’t exist, but Toni could still cut the atmosphere of the room with a knife.

‘Oh shit….score!’

Toni grins as she pulls out a drawer to reveal the remote and a small, embellished wooden box. Throwing the remote over to Shelby (she gets a kick of satisfaction out of the way it smacks into Shelby’s lap just a little too hard), Toni sits on the sofa (at the opposite end to the other girl. Obviously.) and Shelby switches on the TV; she channel surfs until she finds a Simpsons episode rerun. Toni snorts.

‘Seriously?’

‘What? Everyone loves the Simpsons.’ Shelby says, defensively. She’s sitting with her legs crossed underneath her, head propped up on her arm, leant against the couch’s arm; like she’s trying to subtly lean away from Toni.

‘How tactful. Is that a youth group approved de-escalation method?’

Toni can’t help but poke her; it’s a reflex. Having a mean temper and zero filter has always been a struggle the Good Lord decided to bestow on her.  
There’s a terrible second where Toni thinks Shelby might actually smile at that, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly, but thankfully she keeps her face in righteous indignation.

‘If what I’ve heard about Fatin’s parties are true, it’s going to be a long evening. You got something better to do?’ Shelby says.

Toni smirks at that; she triumphantly produces the little box she’d found in the drawer. She undoes its metal clasp and opens it slowly, unnecessarily dramatic, like it’s some ancient Aztec treasure. An overwhelming herby, green smell suddenly fills the room.

‘Is that…’ Shelby trails off. She’s looking at Toni, side-eyeing her, and Toni can almost _taste_ the disapproval, but she doesn’t care; this box has just saved her evening.

‘California’s finest,’ Toni says. Trust Fatin to only have the most top shelf shit; the stash is impressively stocked.

Shelby frowns almost imperceptibly, and Toni helps herself to a healthy chunk of the weed and starts grinding it. She won’t be paying Fatin back; a little bit of wealth redistribution is in order.

‘Toni. That’s against the law.’ Shelby says quietly. Like she’s got Toni’s best interests at heart or something. Toni tips the ground weed into a paper.

‘The law gets things wrong. Lots of bad things are legal.’ Toni speaks curtly and works the paper in her fingers, tightening the roll. ‘Like tobacco. Or, and I’m sure you’re familiar with this one, marrying your cousin. ’

There it is again; a flash of a smile, quickly suppressed, replaced with a contemptuous frown.

‘And,’ Toni continues, ‘Lots of good things are illegal. Like the Devil’s cabbage, like illegal streaming, lots of things.’

She rolls a strip of cardboard into the joint’s tip. Onscreen, Homer is getting up to some ridiculous, yet lovable, antics; Toni’s never actually seen this episode before.

‘Abortion.’

‘What?’

‘They want to make abortion illegal in some places. But it’s a good thing.’ Shelby says. She’s twisting one of her rings, a thin gold band, around her index finger.

‘What the fuck?’ Toni is astounded, equally at the nature of this admission and the fact that Shelby is _voluntarily_ continuing the conversation between them. ‘You think abortion is a good thing?’

‘Yeah, like, a necessary thing.’ Shelby angles herself so she’s facing towards Toni. ‘It has solid logic behind it and undoubtedly huge benefits to society’

Toni is floored; Shelby says it so offhandedly, with such nonchalance.

‘But you’re so… Christian.’

‘I am Christian. But I’m not inhumane.’ Shelby says, steel in her voice. ‘And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t jump to conclusions about me because of that.’

‘Hold on, don’t twist it like that,’ Toni says. ‘I assumed you’d be against abortion because I’ve _seen_ you and your family run marathons to support some fucking conversion camp charity. So I think I’ve got every right to assume that you’re a right-wing nut and you come as a gay-hating, pro-life package.’

Shelby stiffens at that. She drops her eyes and a small furrow appears between her brows; she suddenly looks sad, insecure, a deep contrast to the conviction that she usually moves with, the piety that fills Toni with irritation every time she sees her striding down the school hallways. ‘That’s totally different.’

‘How the hell is that different? How can you support one and not the other?’

‘Being g-’ Shelby stutters over the word. ‘ _Homosexuality_ is different. It just is. Maybe if you’d grown up in the church-’

Toni scoffs and sinks back into the sofa, shaking her head. She’s over it. ‘Shelby, that’s just hate. You hate gay people. Just admit it.’

She tucks the tip into the paper and licks the length of the joint, wetting the gum.

(She’s so focused on rolling that she misses the way Shelby’s eyes track the movement of her tongue as it slides across the paper.)

‘That’s not true.’ To her credit, Shelby has the decency to hang her head, ashamed.

Toni hums noncommittally, rummaging in her pockets for a lighter.

‘Whatever, Shelby.’

Lisa Simpson prattles on in the background.

‘Wait. Are you-’ Shelby looks at her with wide eyes. ‘Are you gonna light that in here?

‘Yep.’

‘Seriously?’

It tugs on Toni’s conscience, briefly. Then, she remembers who Shelby is, and the wicked satisfaction it would bring to break the rules, to be immoral, in front of her is too tempting to ignore. And yet, Shelby looks so unsure that she finds herself being reassuring before she can stop herself.

‘The vents are open. It’s a big room. You’ll be perfectly fine.’ Curse Martha’s mom for raising her so well.

Toni lights the joint; the lighter sparks, the gas hisses, the joint’s tip glows ruby red in the low light.

The first toke catches her off guard; she’d forgotten it’s Fatin’s expensive, high-strength shit, too caught up in trying to be as cold as possible to the colonizer-next-door. The smoke fills her chest and it’s familiar and comforting; she finds she can almost relax, can almost forget the bundle of bad vibes sitting next to her. They sit in silence for a while, the TV volume on low. Toni can feel Shelby looking at her out of the corner of her eye and it’s jarring, but she’s okay with this uneasy balance; it’s not ideal, but her body tingles pleasantly and the basement is deliciously snug, and Shelby even might have pulled the silver spoon in her ass out by a few inches because she’s sinking back into the couch, unwinding. Yeah, she’s come to terms with it; she’s decidedly okay with spending the evening stoned, watching inane TV, completely ignoring the girl next to her. It’s better than pointlessly bickering with her, at least.

//

  
‘Toni.’ Shelby breaks the silence with a very small voice. Toni cracks a wide smile at that, despite herself. God, this girl.

‘Yeah?’ She says. Shelby is fiddling with her necklace, shyly looking at her sideways.

‘What does it feel like?’

The situation is suddenly ridiculous; she’s locked in a basement with the closest thing she’s got to a mortal enemy and said mortal enemy is, if she’s reading the situation right, about to meekly ask to try her weed. It’s quite incomprehensible; she smiles even wider.

‘Um...it’s like…’

Shelby’s mouth is set in a straight line, but her eyes betray her curiosity; she keeps glancing from the TV to Toni to Toni’s hands, where curls of smoke rise from the joint.

‘It’s like… loosening. You’d probably benefit.’ Toni punctuates with a deep inhale, ‘Everything is funny. Why?’

‘Just making conversation.’

Toni holds the breath in and studies Shelby. This is an interesting change of tone from their earlier clashing, and Toni wonders if the evening has the potential to right itself yet. God, Martha would probably throw up with excitement if, when Toni saw her at their shift at the diner tomorrow, she told her that she’d spent her Friday lighting up a doobie with Shelby Goodkind. She exhales the smoke slowly; a diabolical idea enters her head.

‘Do you wanna try?’

Shelby scoffs at that.

‘Lord, no. I don’t indulge in that sort of thing’

Toni knows it’s childish, but she can’t think of anything more hilarious than the possibility that she could get to see godly Shelby get frassed tonight. So, she soldiers on.

‘Okay. But like, we’re here for the whole evening and I can’t think of anything else to do.’

Shelby chews her lip, and Toni can see her turning the idea over in her head. _Fuck yes_. The TV bathes them in ever-changing colours, making the cross on Shelby’s necklace glint; Toni hadn’t noticed the way it hangs so nicely under the dip of her throat before.

‘You don’t have to- it’s just, you seem pretty curious.’

She drags her eyes away from Shelby’s neck and holds the joint out to her.

‘Smoking marijuana is degenerate behaviour’ Shelby says, recites. Toni bursts out laughing at that.

‘Alright, alright. But for the record, Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, Maya Angelou, they all smoked like hell. And, _you’re_ the one that seems to want to colonize my high right now.’

Toni’s thoughts are starting to move really fucking slowly and she misses the moment when Shelby’s resolve breaks, too distracted by nothing to notice her leaning over, snatching the zoot.

Her hand twitches at the contact. She’s about to complain, mouth halfway open, but the sight of Shelby holding the joint like it’s an extraterrestrial object is much, much too disarming.

‘How do I do it, then?’

Oh my God, Martha will literally shit herself when she hears about this.

‘You- you just inhale it. Deep’

Shelby holds it to her lips, inhaling violently; she coughs, hacks, and it fills Toni with so much glee that it’s a Herculean task not to pee herself from laughter.

‘Just draw it in! Breathe with your diaphragm!’

Shelby looks sheepish, still coughing as smoke pours out her nose; she’s flushed a deep red and her eyes glint with tears. She giggles, honest to God, giggles, and yeah, this is new; them, laughing together, at Shelby’s expense.

‘Go again,’ Toni encourages. Shelby hits it properly this time, a deep breath then a steady stream of white smoke on the exhale.

‘It’s so dry,’ Shelby says, and she smiles at her, and Toni finds herself smiling back and it’s weird and new and she doesn’t hate the unexpected warmth that spreads through her from it as much as she thought she would. They finish the zoot and they’re still smiling at each other, inexplicably shyly, and Toni feels a pleasant tug on her stomach when they catch each other’s eyes. 

//

Time passes; the weed kicks in, hard; the tension between them melts away.

‘Oh my Lord, this is crazy.’ Shelby says, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the back of the couch, exposing the long line of her neck. Toni swallows, involuntarily. Her mind is pleasantly smooth, thoughts rolling slowly like clouds on a heady day.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ Shelby’s accent is more drawn out, slower, her voice raspier. ‘I’m not even watching the dang screen, but somehow I know exactly what’s going on in this episode. And it’s hilarious. And Lord, everything’s so, like, _sensory_. ’

‘I know, right?’ Toni agrees, running her fingernails down the fine corduroy of a pillow.  
And I’m so hungry.’

‘Yeah. But unless Fatin secretly has a rotisserie down here, I think we’re just gonna have to starve.’

‘Mmmm.’

Shelby lifts her head and looks at her; her eyes are half-lidded, heavy lashes low over sea-glass green, and Toni shivers because she is indubitably, fantastically, gorgeous. She wonders what it is; perhaps it's the lack of pious vexation, maybe it’s the way a sloppy smile is stretched lazily across her face. Whatever. Toni can’t explain the way her mouth feels even drier than it already was.

Shelby stretches, leans back as if she’s being pressed into the couch. Toni knows the feeling; it's an effort for her to even lift her head to keep looking at Shelby.

‘And, it’s like, suddenly I’m so, like-’

Shelby cuts off, embarrassed, and Toni looks at her, confused, notices the way Shelby’s just tightly crossed her legs, blush rising on her freckled skin. Oh. Shelby was about to say _horny_. Toni’s heart is suddenly beating fast. _Fuck_.

‘I’m, uh, I’m gonna roll another.’

She uses the excuse to tear her eyes away, busies herself with the task, ignores the sudden ignition of her nervous system. Shelby nods slowly. She lights up the second zoot, this time rolled with weed from a jar intriguingly labelled ‘Don’t give to Nora- she’ll die’. She passes it to Shelby, jolts at the spark of electricity when their fingers brush.

A muted cheer floats down from upstairs; the music must’ve been turned up, because now they can hear the beat thumping through the floor, the unmistakable opening notes of Redbone.

‘This is so stupid,’ Shelby says, looking to the ceiling, ‘Who even _has_ a lock on their basement door?’

‘Fatin’s parents are nosey as fuck,’ Toni says, dragging her hands along the seam of the couch, enjoying the texture, fighting the urge to stare at the way Shelby’s golden hair spills across her shoulders, ‘I know her and her brothers have this whole us-against-them thing about it’

There’s a pause.

‘I feel that, actually.’

Toni answers ‘Oh yeah?’ before she can stop herself.

‘Yeah’

Shelby repositions herself, turning to face Toni on the sofa. They’ve somehow shifted slightly closer over time, as if pulled together by an inescapable gravity.

‘My dad is... he’s got this whole, like, intensity thing. Like he’s always striving to be the best in the room. It’s kind of exhausting.’ Shelby says, and it’s such a surprise, this poignant introspection into her life that Toni suddenly feels like she’s intruding.

‘Yeah, well. My dad’s got this whole, like, being dead thing.’

Shelby’s eyes widen, shocked, then she bursts out laughing.

‘I’m so sorry, Toni,’ Shelby’s stifled her laughter and Toni flinches when she leans forward, touches her knee, ‘I had no idea your dad was, um-’

‘It’s fine,’ Toni says. ‘It’s been, like, ages’

‘I literally had no idea.’

‘How could you? We never talk.’

Shelby removes her hand. Toni doesn’t know how to feel about it

‘That’s right. We literally never talk,’ The corners of Shelby’s mouth quirk into a half-teasing, half-sad smile, ‘But you hate me, anyway.’

‘You hated me first.’

It strikes Toni that she _really_ doesn’t want to get into another spat with Shelby. Not right now, not when it’s making her feel so good to see her actually relaxed, mellow. Not when their knees are touching, and the contact feels so utterly delicious.

Shelby’s face softens, her lips parting slightly.

‘I’ve never hated you, Toni’

She says it quietly, honestly. Toni wants to believe her but she’s seen the articles Shelby’s mother writes for her political blog, she knows that the Goodkinds practically funded the entire extension to the local church and- _ohmygod_ is she completely insane or did those blown eyes just flick down to her lips?

‘Don’t give me that shit,’ Toni wants to snarl it, to be biting, but she finds herself speaking in an equally breathy tone, ‘I know exactly what your book says about people like me.’

Her voice quivers, just slightly, embarrassingly.

‘Toni…’ Shelby says, whispers, ‘I don’t hate you. I promise.’

They’re so, so close; Toni could count the freckles on Shelby’s face. The eye contact is so intense, so loaded, it’s unbearable, but Toni would die before she backed down from her; so it’s Shelby, fucking _Shelby_ that shuts her eyes, leans in, barely brushes her lips against Toni’s and her mind goes completely offline and there’s a fucking bang as the basement door is kicked open and Fatin stumbles down the stairs. Shelby jerks away like she’s been shot, throws herself backwards.

‘Oh my god, have you guys been bunning all my shit?’

Fatin is very, very loud in the muffled basement; Toni blinks.

‘Um…’

Shelby runs her hands through her hair, straightens her shirt and suddenly she’s perfect again, all holier-than-thou smiles; flawless, apart from eyes that are too heavy, too bloodshot.

‘Fatin! Where on God’s great earth have you been?’ She says, warmly, cheerfully.

‘Crazy story, I actually remembered I already had some beers ready in the garage refrigerator,’ Fatin exclaims, brightly, ‘But it looks like you guys had some fun down here!’

Shelby’s smile falters at that.

‘What...what do you mean by that?’

‘I mean it fucking reeks of _my_ weed! Come on, neighbours just called in a noise complaint so you guys should probably scram, quick.’ Fatin motions to usher them out. Shelby gasps.

‘Are the police coming?’

‘Yes, bitch, so GTFO!’

Shelby leaps up, sprints up the stairs. She doesn’t look back.

Fatin has an annoyingly smug look on her face as she examines Toni.

‘As for you, boo, you can stay here tonight.’

Toni sits, gapes.

‘What the fuck just happened?’

‘You tell me, bitch!’

Fatin looks at her so expectantly but Toni can’t quite comprehend; her lips still buzz from where Shelby’s had touched them, so lightly, so delicately, and she can still smell her perfume, hanging sweet in the air.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading guys! Title is from an MF DOOM song cos rip king  
> I love getting comments so please lmk what you thought!!&


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